


Prisoner of War

by Anjelle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Gen, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A medic finds himself captured by the opposing side in the ongoing war with and interrogator who's really quite bad at what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prisoner of War

Law was… displeased.

He remembered a blur of lights and sounds—gunshots and uniforms. He'd been treating a man's wounds, doing his duty and then—and then it was just blank, and he couldn't recall what happened after.

Finding himself cuffed and tied to a chair was enough to fill him in.

It wasn't hard to tell that he was in enemy territory. If the cuffs weren't enough to hint at the outcome of the battle he'd been in, the emblems around the room were—the royal blues of the army.

And he was stuck in the middle of it all. Fantastic.

A door creaked open behind him—he couldn't turn to face it, which left him feeling unsettled—and the clacking of steel-toed boots crept across the floor, closer and closer before a blond clad in blue came into sight.

The man looked young, perhaps around Law's age, with features that certainly didn't leave him feeling intimidated. But where his looks failed to get across his purpose, the emblem on his uniform more than made up for it.

Law scowled. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

The blond turned to face him, locking him under the heavy gaze of round, blue eyes. His stare was unflinching—unnerving—as he hopped onto the edge of the desk behind him and sat, completely uncaring of the papers scattered atop his make-shift seat.

The pair remained in tense silence until the one standing before him sighed, finally blinking. "The other guy died, you know—the one who's qualified to do these sorts of things." The statement came out of nowhere, with no lead and no real purpose. It was… extremely bizarre, and he didn't know how to react, deciding to remain silent and observant, trying to figure out just what was going on in the other's head. "So they pulled  _me_  in here. And I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

…Well, he was blunt. So he was there… to interrogate Law, wasn't he? He wondered how that would play out—what methods this man would use and to what extent he'd be willing to go to get his information. It was almost… intimidating.

This was war, after all.

The blond raised his hand and Law tensed, preparing for the man's first attempt at  _convincing_  him to divulge important information. But instead of some sort of act, he was met with the sloshing of liquid in a bottle.

He eyed the hand.  _Alcohol?_

"Want some whisky?" came the simple question. He couldn't have been serious. There was no way. "The other guy kept a lot of it… I don't like it—not really supposed to drink on the job, anyway—and it'd be such a shame if it was wasted, y'know?"

Law eyed the bottle. It was probably tampered with—drugged, or something. Even if it wasn't, he didn't trust himself not to blurt anything out if impaired by it, and  _why would he want a drink in that situation in the first place_? Finally he spat a firm, unyielding, " _No_."

The blond blinked. "Alright, fine then. I was just trying to be accommodating."

"To a captive?"

"Well why not?"

Law… wasn't sure what he should say to that. 'Why not'… Well he was an enemy, for one. They were on opposing sides of the war, for another. And lastly, wasn't he supposed to be doing whatever he could to make the prisoner say something?

His only response, in the end, was to stay silent.

The man pouted, hunching over a little as blue eyes met Law's gaze once more. "Look: you don't want to be here and I don't want to do this. Think you could cooperate and save me the hassle?"

This guy wasn't serious, was he? "Not a chance."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Not even if I say 'please'?"

" _No_."

The soldier huffed, hopping off of the desk and ignoring it as the papers he was sitting on scattered to the floor. He grabbed the back of the chair behind it and dragged it forward until it was right in front of Law, then plopped down on it. "Name's Sabo. Yours?"

Law just  _stared_  at the man. "You can't be serious."

"Told you I don't know what I'm doing." He tilted his head. "Any suggestions?"

"You're asking your  _captive_  for  _interrogation tips_. Are you out of your mind?"

"Not entirely," the blond answered with a grin, folding one leg over the other. "But these things get all messy and, well, I don't  _really_  want to do this. I won't hurt a defenceless man, but I doubt you'd break under empty threats, so we've… kind of reached an impasse."

Law snorted. "Have we now?"

"Well," the man rose to his feet with a hefted breath, "you can't move, and I'm a decent guy—don't give me that look, I am, being enemies has no real impact on my character—so yes, I'd say we have."

The captive smirked. If he wasn't going to  _convinced_ … "Then I win."

"Win?  _You_?" The man—Sabo or whatever—seemed intrigued. "How so?"

"I'll have no reason to give anything up," he pointed.

Sabo frowned. "What's your name?"

"Fuck you."

"Hello, Fuck You, I'm Sabo. It's a pleasure."

"Smartass."

"Well?"

"What?"

"What is it? Tell me."

Law was silent.

"…Please?"

He turned away. As though he ever would.

"What harm could it do?"

Well… a lot, actually.

"Please?"

"No."

"Is that a 'no because I shouldn't' or a 'no because I'm stubborn'?"

Law stilled. "…I hate you."

The blond grinned. "Stubborn, then. Good to know."

And at that moment, the medic knew that this was the start of a painfully long interrogation.


End file.
